Only the Beginning
by Christina Hall
Summary: About Imhotep and Anck in Ancient Egypt...M for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes. COMPLETE. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**Rating:** R for violence, sexual situations, and the usual bad attitudes  
Special thanks to Kao Vang for editing and many good suggestions  
**Disclaimer:** The Mummy and the characters therein are the property of Universal Studios.  
No infringement intended. I am making no money off of this.

**Chapter One **

"Look around you. All Egypt knows the power of the Pharaoh. Let us all, then, honor the divine son of Ra."

Anak-sun-amun had long ago stopped listening to the words. It was the voice speaking them that pulled her in- powerful, commanding, filling the sanctuary with seemingly no effort at all. The high priest of Osiris could raise his voice and sound like thunder, then lower it and caress the syllables with a lover's gentle touch. Physically he was an imposing man as well. Even at this distance it was plain that he was tall, probably standing head and shoulders above most of the other men in the room. His chest, showing through the panels of his robe, was well-muscled, but not in the manner of a soldier who lives and dies by his sword. It was rather in the manner of a man who is strong and substantial, and perfectly capable of defending himself if necessary, but who does not need to, because he wields so much power and knows it. There was a touch of arrogance about him, but it was only justified. He knew exactly who he was- the most powerful man in Egypt, save the Pharaoh. Not a person to be taken lightly, that was for sure.

He paused in his speech, and cast his eyes quickly around him. His gaze slid by the Pharaoh, slumped on his throne, and rested on Anak-sun-amun.

His eyes were dark and deep as the underworld he had spoken of, unknowable and mysterious. He had a stare that could pin you to the wall, should he choose to use it that way. At that particular moment, he did not. He looked at her with admiration, but Anak-sun-amun was used to that. Pharaoh was constantly showing her off. But there was also a spark in his eyes, a hint of deeper interest, and something else she couldn't quite identify.

Anak-sun-amun suddenly found herself smiling. It was a small smile, for it would certainly be unseemly to grin during such a solemn occasion. But she could not help it. He appealed to her, somehow, in a way that no one else had since she had come to the royal court. He held her eyes a fraction of a second longer, then turned his head slightly, and resumed speaking. She continued listening, wondering if she had imagined that brief glance.

That night Pharaoh gave a banquet at the palace. Everyone who was anyone in Thebes, the capital city, was there. Imhotep, at the center of a group of conversing priests and nobles, said little, but when he did, everyone listened. He radiated the image of High Priest from every pore. All respected him, either for himself, if they knew him well enough and liked him, or out of fear, if they did not. Certainly there were few people who would dare to disagree with him. He moved as though detached from the rest of the room, yet intimately aware of everything that was going on.

Some of the guests would not have been the least bit surprised had they discovered that he could read their thoughts. He could not, of course, but he used their gullibility to his advantage whenever necessary.

"Imhotep!" the Pharaoh called his priest to his side. The guests made way as the imposing man walked to the ruler's place at the center of the long head table. "Sit by me while we dine. There are matters I would discuss with you."

Imhotep nodded his acknowledgment of the order and took his seat. Sitting at Pharaoh's other side was his newest and favorite mistress, Anak-sun-amun. He had heard the pharaoh mention her in passing before, and had recognized her at the ceremony by her elaborate body-paint which Seti apparently took great pleasure in making her wear. She had been striking, certainly, but more than that. There was something...different about her, though exactly what it was, he could not say. Now, however, her face was turned away from him, and despite his curiosity, he couldn't catch her eye.

Pharaoh Seti gave the signal to sound the gong that announced the serving of food. Everyone took their places with a bustle of linen and tinkling jewelry, the servants trotted out heavy platters of food, and the meal began.

When all had been served a plate full of food, the pharaoh turned to Imhotep.

"I am very pleased with the ceremony today. It was a fitting commemoration of our victory."

"Thank you, my Lord." Imhotep answered gravely.,

"However, I was not so pleased with the welcome I received at the palace doors. It was utterly spiritless. You placed Tiamon in charge of that, didn't you?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Imhotep was not sure what Seti was getting at, but he had a feeling he would not enjoy it. And neither would Tiamon.

Pharaoh turned to the two Med-jai guards behind him and gave a little nod. Instantly the two left Pharaoh's side, found Tiamon where he was seated at one of the lower tables, and hauled him protesting out of his seat. They roughly dragged the confused priest before the head table. Pharaoh gave another nod.

The Med-jai's swords flashed in the lamplight, once, twice, and before anyone fully realized what was happening, Tiamon lay run through on the floor, eyes wide in shock, blood spreading like an inexorable tide from his body across the stones. There was a great gasp in the hall as everyone took in their breath at once, and the music petered off into isolated thumps and toots as the musicians realized one by one what had happened.

Imhotep seethed inside. Seti had not even explained to Tiamon the reason for his anger- which meant that Tiamon was not his real target. He had done this for Imhotep's benefit, letting him know who was really in charge. The Pharaoh and the High Priest had been at odds lately over several issues, and clearly the Pharaoh felt the need to exert his authority over Imhotep's people. But Tiamon had been a good priest! To have him killed in cold blood, in the middle of what was supposed to be a joyous occasion, without even a word of explanation- that was inexcusable, even for a pharaoh.

Out of the corner of his eye, Imhotep saw Anak-sun-amun, looking rather sick. She had pushed her plate away from her and focused her gaze down at the tablecloth. Imhotep wanted to do the same, but he could not. He must appear impassive, as if this incident had not mattered to him at all.

"That," stated Seti with great satisfaction as the two Med-jai took their places behind him again "is what happens to those who displease me." He gave Imhotep a significant look, and the High Priest merely held his eyes, calmly, until the Pharaoh finally gave up and looked away.

"Come, come, clean this up," he demanded of the stupefied servants. "Let's have no more unpleasantness tonight. We'll have music, and celebration, and dancing!" Taking a sip of his wine, he gestured to a group of women at the other end of the table, who got up and came to the middle of the room, or as close as they could get while avoiding the bloody mess that was beginning to be cleaned up. Reluctantly the music started up again, and the women began to sway to it, moving their hips provocatively. Some in the audience made appreciative comments, but many still could not concentrate on the spectacle. Imhotep was one of these.

They were all alike anyway, these women under Seti's thumb. Good enough dancers, but spiritless, most of their personality figuratively (and in some cases, literally) beaten out of them, replaced by the servility and attention only to the pettiest of details that comes with living in such close proximity to a god on earth. They bored Imhotep immensely. He heard himself sigh.

"Ah!" Seti made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You haven't yet met my greatest prize!" He stroked Anak-sun-amun's hair, and she ignored him.

"Her?" Imhotep inquired, nodding toward the favored concubine.

"Yes! She is worth ten of the others, twenty, even!" And he raised his voice to the dancing women, calling for them to stop. They obeyed, and the Pharaoh turned to his favorite. "Dance for us, Anak-sun. Show everyone what a lovely jewel you are."

She nodded, stood, and went around the table to the open space. Imhotep noticed for the first time how tall she was. She would be up to his nose if he stood by her. But she was not skinny, as tall women often are, but beautifully proportioned, the lamplight glinting off the gold paint that accentuated the curves of her near-naked breasts and hips. A sprinkling of lascivious comments came from the guests at the table, and the Pharaoh beamed possessively. One woman from the group that had danced earlier looked positively murderous, and Imhotep wondered, bemused, if this were the one who had been displaced as Pharaoh's favorite.

Anak-sun-amun danced gracefully, sensually, but her eyes were fixed on some point on the wall, beyond the Pharaoh's head. At first glance she seemed involved only in her dance, but Imhotep had always had a talent for "reading" other people, and gradually he came to see that behind this facade, Anak-sun-amun was actually bored, yet alert to every nuance of her surroundings. Such inattention in the presence of the Pharaoh bordered on insolence, but she hid it well, and Imhotep felt a certain respect for her dissembling.

If Pharaoh thought she was exactly like the other palace women, he was a fool. She was as different from them as Seti himself was from a common farmer. At least for now. How long would it be before that cleverness atrophied and faded, replaced by nervous fawning and mindless obedience? Not too long, probably. Another couple of months, and then she would be just like the catty group at the other end of the table, all her potential ruined to satisfy the whims of a god on earth.

Suddenly Imhotep lost all desire to watch the entertainment. Coming so soon after the murder of Tiamon, the sight of Pharaoh showing off his possession left a bad taste in his mouth. Disgusted, he glanced around for a way out, and was relieved to see Pepy, one of his most loyal priests, approaching him. Imhotep beckoned him forward.

"Sir, about...Tiamon..."

"I'll speak to you outside," Imhotep indicated the golden doors to the hall where the feast was taking place.

"It's not necessary..." began the under-priest, then was silent when Imhotep gave him a stern look. Imhotep turned to the Pharaoh.

"Excuse me a moment, Your Majesty?" Seti nodded, while continuing to converse drunkenly with two noblemen further down the table. Imhotep rose and followed his subordinate out of the room. As they were leaving, he saw out of the corner of his eye that Seti had called Anak-sun-amun to his side.

Imhotep listened with half an ear as the priest gave his report. Tiamon's body had just been taken to the Temple, and naturally there were already a great many questions being asked about his death. The priest wanted to know what to tell them. Imhotep considered this for a moment.

"For those of our group, tell them the truth- that Pharaoh had him murdered in cold blood to put me in my place. For the rest, tell them it was an accident and that you know no more than they do."

"Yes, sir," Pepy answered. Imhotep thanked him and Pepy left at a brisk walk, heading toward the main entrance to the palace. Imhotep himself, not quite ready to return to the hall, leaned against the wall for a moment, just around the corner from the golden doors. The cool of the stone soaked into his back, a welcome respite from the heat of many bodies crowded together in the dining hall.

He heard the doors beginning to open and sighed, standing up straighter lest someone see him like this. He was shocked to see Anak-sun-amun exit the hall, alone. She did not see him and continued on her way, her back to Imhotep. As he watched her retreating figure, he was struck with the urge to call her name, to stop her, to find any excuse to look her in the eyes again.

"Anak-sun-amun!" He did not even realize he had spoken out loud, but she turned and regarded him. There was no fear, or even surprise on her face, only the attentive, alert expression of one who waits on the instructions of a superior.

Imhotep opened his mouth, but found he could not form words. "Nothing" he finally said, and she nodded and turned again. Imhotep was furious with himself. Why should the High Priest of Osiris be so nervous in the presence of a mere concubine? There was no reason at all, of course. He took a deep breath and made himself speak again. "Wait."

Again she looked at him, with the same patient politeness. "I would walk with you, if you would permit it." Imhotep was not sure where that phrase came from, but he realized as he said it that that was exactly what he wanted to do.

"Of course, High Priest," she answered, and they fell into step. She walked unhurriedly, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Imhotep could not help but notice that her profile was as lovely as the rest of her, and he turned his own eyes to the front also, to keep from seeming to stare.

"You are going to your quarters?" Imhotep asked, trying to make conversation, though he was hard pressed to think of something to say that would not be completely meaningless. He didn't know her at all, after all, and so much had happened tonight that was infinitely more significant than polite small talk.

"I am to bathe and go to the Pharaoh's."

"You do not seem in a hurry to get there." It was true. She walked just barely fast enough that she could not be accused of reluctance.

"Pharaoh is my lord and master," she answered noncommitally, but she stole a lingering glance at Imhotep from under her eyelashes, as if daring him to do...something, he didn't know what. Some very inappropriate images flashed through his mind, and he looked away quickly, embarrassed by his reaction. For a while they walked in silence.

They reached a point where the corridor turned to the left, with the doors to the palace gardens before them. Anak-sun-amun pushed these open and went out into the night air.

"I usually go this way," she said by way of explanation. "It is not much longer."

Imhotep followed her out. It was pleasantly cool, but not so much that the near-naked Anak-sun-amun would get a chill. The air was scented with the steamy fragrance of the garden flowers. Bright and full, the moon threw glints of silver onto the swirling painted designs on Anak-sun-amun's skin, making her appear softer, more mysterious. It accentuated the full curve of her lips, and Imhotep had to fight down the desire to take her in his arms and kiss her. He searched his mind for a suitable distraction, but she gave him one instead.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," she reflected, turning her back to the moon in order to see them better. "There's the chariot," she added, pointing.

"Do you know many of the constellations?" Imhotep asked. For some reason, it did not surprise him that she did.

"A few," she admitted. "My father's scribe showed me when I was a child."

"Have you seen the jackal?" She nodded. "What about the hippopotamus?"

"No, I don't know that one."

"Look, then," Imhotep answered, stepping behind her, but carefully back far enough not to mar her paint. "Follow the jackal's snout over to the right. The five stars in a curved line are the hippopotamus' belly. He is standing eating reeds, and the jackal is angry because he is too big for him to eat." It was an old child's story, but it made Anak-sun-amun laugh, a delightful sound like tinkling bells.

He pointed out several more star patterns, and she took in the knowledge avidly, nodding her understanding without speaking. Standing so close to her, Imhotep was beginning to be seriously distracted by the palpable warmth of her body, the graceful shape of her shoulders, the scent of her thick, glossy hair. All he had to do was to take one step forward, and then he could bury his face in it, run his hands through it, feel her lean back against him, hear her sigh softly...blasphemous thoughts, but it seemed the natural thing to do.

He was almost relieved when Anak-sun-amun stepped away from him. "I should go," she stated.

"I will walk you the rest of the way," Imhotep was unwilling to give up her presence so soon, not to mention unwilling to return to the feast. They continued on without speaking until they reached the door of Anak-sun-amun's quarters.

Here she paused. "Thank you for your company, High Priest," she said, all deference and correctness. "Perhaps I will see you again?"

"If you come to the Temple of Osiris, certainly." he acknowledged, and then she went inside and shut the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

As soon as the door shut behind her, Anak-sun-amun sagged against it, her face breaking into the smile she had been holding in ever since High Priest Imhotep had asked to walk with her. Her heart had been pounding so loud she was certain he could hear it, and a giddy feeling suffused her insides. She hoped he had not thought her rude to remain so silent, but she could barely form intelligent words with him beside her. Did he know the effect he had on her? They had been standing so close together, just a few inches more and she would have been able to nestle against his strong chest, rub her cheek against his, and then...she shook her head to end that train of thought. It was most inappropriate, but- he made her happy, in a way that she had not been happy in quite a long time.

In the next room two servants were working at a loom, for it was not that late yet. "Prepare my bath," she ordered them, hoping they would attribute her cheerfulness to being called to Pharaoh's chambers. The two women exchanged mildly surprised glances, but did as they were told. Perhaps they thought she was finally warming up to the Pharaoh in the face of his constant attentions.

No chance of that, thought Anak-sun-amun, sobering as she remembered the events at the feast. Pharaoh did nothing for her, physically or emotionally. She missed the days when she, as the daughter of a minor baron in Amenthis, one of the outlying large towns, had had much more freedom. All that had changed a month ago when Pharaoh admired her, and her obsequious father handed her over as a present.

In a way, she knew, she couldn't really blame her father, for one way or another, Pharaoh always got exactly what he wanted. It had been a disappointment for her on several levels, but still, she was conscious of the honor that had been bestowed upon her, and relatively content to work within the system.

Until she had met the High Priest's eyes that afternoon. Now Anak-sun-amun wasn't so sure. Nothing seemed as clear to her anymore.

She did not hurry with her bath, luxuriating in the soft warm water, enjoying how it felt against her skin. The gold and black paint thoroughly washed off, she went to her room and dressed in a simple white linen dress reaching into her jewelry box for the jeweled collar that Pharaoh had given her. Her hand touched bare wood instead, and she pulled the box down and looked inside. No collar. Where could it be? She wondered if someone had taken it- maybe Tuya? She had been Pharaoh's favorite before Anak-sun-amun's arrival, and was the only one of the other palace women to show serious jealousy at her presence. Oh, well, there was nothing she could do about it now, and it wouldn't matter tonight.

Blithely brushing off the offers of the maids to escort her, Anak-sun-amun went to the Pharaoh's chamber. She was somewhat surprised when she turned the corner and saw two of the Med-jai, Pharaoh's personal guards, at the door. That meant that Seti was within. Anak-sun-amun had thought he would stay at the feast quite a bit longer. She had fully expected that he would have to wake her up when he arrived- if he did not fall asleep immediately himself.

One look at the Med-jai's expressions told her that Pharaoh was probably not happy. Nervous now, she entered the gold-leafed room, walked through the outer chamber, and pushed back the long, filmy curtain that separated it from the inner room.

Pharaoh Seti sat there on the bed, his face a mask of displeasure. He was also, Anak-sun-amun noted, drunk. His eyes were shifty and he leaned at an unaccustomed angle.

"Why were you not here when I arrived?" he snapped.

"I was bathing, my Lord," Anak-sun-amun answered, trying to keep her tone sweet and reasonable.

"When I command, you should hurry to obey." His speech was slurred as he reached out and tugged at her dress, pulling her toward him. Anak-sun-amun found herself truly frightened. Something about his eyes told her she wasn't getting off easily.

"My Lord, please..." she tried to think of a distraction. "You look tired. Would you like a backrub?"

"No!" he cried, standing up, taking her by the shoulders, and giving her a shake that rocked her head on her neck. "I find your attitude unsatisfactory lately. You do not respect me!"

"I do respect you, of course, my Lord," she stammered, bewildered.

"You still do not understand!" he slammed her jarringly to a sitting position on the bed. "I am the son of Horus...I mean of Ra," he was getting confused now, his eyes unfocused. Anak-sun-amun thought about making a break for the door, but the Med-jai would only stop her and send her back in, if Pharaoh so willed it. The phrase "loyal to the death" still didn't adequately describe their dedication.

"Never mind," Seti shook his head. "I do what I want here!"

Anak-sun-amun had only taken her eyes off him for a second, but he moved with a speed she had not thought him capable of in this inebriated state. He pushed her over onto her stomach and sat on her legs, holding her wrists behind her with one hand while he pulled her skirt up over her hips with the other. She struggled, but couldn't break free in that awkward position. When he finally let her arms go, she was well and truly pinned underneath him, and he was shoving her legs apart and taking his pleasure from her.

It felt like she was being ripped in half down there, and the angle of his thrusts forced her face painfully against the surface of the bed. Anak-sun-amun squeezed her eyes closed and tried to block out the hurt, the sound of his ragged breathing in her ear, the smell of his wine-laden breath. She thought of the constellations overhead, of the two crowns in all their heavenly glory, the chariot racing across the sky, the jackal spying on the hippopotamus, all oblivious to earthly concerns and troubles. She tried as hard as she could to be among those bright stars, and not here, not here, anywhere but here.

The Pharaoh gave a grunt of satisfaction as he finished, and his weight was removed from her shoulders. Tears wetting her cheeks, Anak-sun-amun crept to the edge of the bed furthest away from him and curled into as tight a ball as possible, as if by doing this she could exclude his taint from her body. After he had rested a few moments, he called for a guard to escort Anak-sun-amun back to her own chamber. The guard eyed her ripped dress, but said nothing, and when she stumbled on an uneven stone in the corridor, he offered her no help, for no man was to touch her but the Pharaoh.

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	3. Chapter 3

LENelly, thank you for reviewing... so, there's next chapter.

Chapter 3

The next morning Anak-sun-amun felt no desire to get up. Others were also sleeping off last night's excesses, so for a while no one bothered her. As the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky, though, Sedet, one of the older servants, tapped on Anak-sun-amun's door and came in to see of she was all right.

"I'm fine. Go away," Anak-sun-amun ordered, pulling the light blanket higher around her chin. It was much too warm already to need it, but she was loathe to take it off.

"Somehow I don't think so," answered Sedet kindly. Anak-sun-amun groaned inwardly as the older woman approached the bed, slightly stooped, but still quite healthy for a woman of her age. Sedet was a motherly sort, always hovering and worrying. She certainly meant well, but Anak-sun-amun was not in the mood to put up with her today.

Sedet pulled a corner of the blanket down so she could see Anak-sun-amun's face, then inhaled sharply as she saw the livid bruises on her shoulders. She looked at Anak-sun-amun questioningly.

"Pharaoh was displeased with me last night," Anak-sun-amun replied stonily.

"Oh, my sweet," Sedet clucked. "Let me rub some ointment on those. And you can have a bath, and something to eat, and soon you'll be feeling more yourself."

Slowly and with much fussing on Sedet's part, Anak-sun-amun allowed herself to be coaxed out of bed. Silently she cursed herself for a fool as she made her way to the bathing room, Sedet encouraging her with every step. She had been stupidly naive. Why had she assumed that she was special, and that Pharaoh would always be more or less kind to her? Why had she harbored the secret hope that if she pleased him for a time, he would eventually let her return to her hometown? The realization that she was here to stay, permanently, forever, was just now really sinking in. Pharaoh would use her until he tired of her, and then she would be relegated to the position of waiting on her successors, and then on the mistresses of the next pharaoh, as she grew old and ugly and bitter here in the petty, backstabbing environment of the royal court.

It was a depressing thought, to say the least. Anak-sun-amun sat down on a bench in the bathing room and sighed. 

"Child, child," Sedet murmured as she picked up a comb and began to run it through Anak-sun-amun's hair. "Don't worry. Pharaoh had too much wine last night, but he likes you. It wouldn't surprise me if he gave you some very nice gifts by way of apology."

Gifts? The thought of gifts disgusted rather than comforted Anak-sun-amun. They would be empty, hollow, meaningless in the face of the pharaoh's behavior. And he would never apologize in words, of course. As the absolute ruler, he did not have to, for everything he did was justified. She sat in stony silence while Sedet worked on her hair and chatted on about inconsequentialities. Finished with that, she helped Anak-sun-amun bathe and put on her makeup, and then suggested that she might like to sit in the garden for a while.

"The fresh air will do you a world of good, sweet. We'll find you a nice, shady spot where you can relax."

They went outside, and Sedet saw her settled on a bench against a wall. Then she left, promising to go to the kitchens and bring back some food. Anak-sun-amun realized as Sedet spoke that she was indeed hungry. Maybe eating would make her feel a little better.

There was shade where Anak-sun-amun was sitting, but the eye of the sun burned hot over the roofs of the palace. It gilded the pyramids of the old rulers, their majestic bulk dominating the view. Anak-sun-amun felt a bit like one of the birds flying around the man-made mountains, calling as loud as they could but never reaching the top, mere specks against the backdrop of ancient stones. A light breeze stirred the branches of the ornamental tree above her, sending pollen into the air. If she turned her head she could smell the fragrance of the flowers, and see almost nothing but dark, shiny leaves and woody branches. Almost as if nothing else existed.

It was an appealing illusion, but no more than that. The pyramids, the palace, the myriad temples, the imposing statues, the great fire in the square that was never allowed to go out- those were reality. She shifted on the bench, drew up her knees, and pillowed her head on her arms, sighing, trying to just enjoy the solitude and not think of anything else.

The sound of a soft footstep caused her to jump, and her first reaction was to tug at her skirt to make sure it covered most of her legs. Looking up, she was confronted with the sight of the High Priest Imhotep, gazing down at her, a slightly amused expression on his handsome face.

"High Priest, I..." she became flustered, for she should have gotten up and bowed to him immediately, but she had not, and now he might again think her rude.

He dismissed her concerns with a little shake of his head. "May I sit?" he asked, indicating the other end of the long bench.

"Of course, High Priest," she hurriedly assented, moving over, but she was confused. Walking with her to her room last night (had it really been only last night?), now asking to sit with her...what did it mean? And how could she possibly think clearly with him close enough to touch? "What...what brings you here, if I may ask?" she asked, thinking that perhaps the direct approach was the best in this case. 

"I came to speak to the Pharaoh, but he is otherwise occupied. I was told to wait for a while." He seemed very accepting of this fact, but Anak-sun-amun sensed some displeasure under the surface. The High Priest was not accustomed to being kept waiting, not even by Pharaoh. Anak-sun-amun found herself wondering what it would be like if that displeasure ever came out into the open. She would certainly not want to be in his way if and when it happened.

Anak-sun-amun realized that the he was looking at her intently. No, not at her, exactly, but at her shoulder, where the bruises left by the Pharaoh's hands stood out painfully against the skin. "Are you hurt, my lady?" he asked, such concern in his voice that Anak-sun-amun was almost embarrassed.

"It is nothing," she replied, turning away and hoping he would drop the subject. But he did not, and her other shoulder was bruised too, so her shift of position only gave the High Priest a better look at her injuries.

"If it were any other man.." he murmured as he reached out and touched the purpling mark. His fingers brushed over her skin so lightly that Anak-sun-amun could barely feel it, but nevertheless she was overcome by the desire to move closer to him, to crawl into his embrace and take shelter there where it was safe. His hands were so large and gentle, his chest strong and muscular and no doubt warm and silky smooth. The temptation was almost overwhelming. She pulled away.

"High Priest, I mean no disrespect, but His Majesty does not allow any other man to touch me."

The breeze picked up, ruffling the leaves louder. "But you- what would you allow?" he asked, and then stood and bowed to her courteously. Anak-sun-amun tried to scramble to her feet and return the gesture, but before she could he was gone. A different set of footsteps, slower and shuffling, approached, and Sedet came up through the plants to the bench, bearing a generous tray of food.

"Is something wrong, child?" inquired Sedet when she noticed Anak-sun-amun gazing fixedly in the opposite direction.

"No, nothing," she replied, turning with a smile. "What did you bring? It smells delicious."

"A little of the leftovers from last night." Sedet set the tray down on the bench between them and handed Anak-sun-amun a bowl. "You like dates, right?"

"You know they're my favorite." Anak-sun-amun found herself smiling, though that was due to the earlier presence of her visitor as well, and not only to the food. The servant woman looked very pleased with herself, though. She was doing her best, Anak-sun-amun thought, feeling much more charitable than before. "Sit down, Sedet, share with me. You brought plenty for two."

"It's good to see you happy again," stated Sedet firmly, leaving no room for arguments.

As they ate, Sedet once more chattered on about everything and nothing, but Anak-sun-amun did not find it nearly as annoying as she had before. After a few minutes, though, she said something that made Anak-sun-amun's ears perk up.

"And Tari, poor girl...you know, that priest who was...killed...was her cousin, and she asked permission to go to the Temple of Osiris tomorrow to make an offering..."

"Was it granted?" Anak-sun-amun asked with sudden interest, sitting up straighter and nearly losing her grip on her bowl.

"Yes, it was, but why is that so exciting?"

"Not exciting, I just...Pharaoh was so angry last night...I wondered..."Anak-sun-amun could not find a way to finish that sentence, and Sedet looked sorry for apparently having upset her.

"I know last night was difficult, but I don't think he's angry anymore. At any rate, several of us are going with her. You could come too, if you like."

"I think I will," Anak-sun-amun nodded. "I did not know Tari's cousin, but it will be good to get out of the palace, and maybe we can see the new sculptures they are working on at the Temple. They are supposed to be quite beautiful."


	4. Chapter 4

Imhotep made his daily rounds of the Temple, inspecting, checking, making sure all in his domain was in order. He stopped in the preparation chamber to discuss certain matters with the embalmers, walked down the row of scribes busy in their workroom. His eyes fell critically on everything. He knew he made many of the temple functionaries nervous, but that was all to the good. It kept them on their toes. After all, if Thebes was ever lax in its observances to Osiris, it was ultimately Imhotep's fault, as High Priest. But he did not allow anyone to slack, and everyone obeyed him or faced the consequences. 

He made his way into the sanctuary where several priests each attended to a small knot of worshipers come to make an offering or a request. Imhotep's eyes fell on a group of about eight women that he recognized as being from the royal palace. For a moment his heart leapt with hope, but no, she was not among them. He turned and left the huge hall, disappointed, but also annoyed with himself. She was a temptation to him and he knew it. That stunt he had pulled in the palace gardens- he had actually allowed himself to touch her- proved that he had little self control where she was concerned. It would be better for all concerned if he never saw Anak-sun-amun again.

He turned his steps to the new, smaller hall at the left side of the main sanctuary. The work on the sculptures had been progressing even faster than anticipated, and the workers had been given today off as a reward. Right now the room should be deserted. A perfect place to seek some peace and quiet.

It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light, but when they did, he made out a figure at the far end of the room, walking slowly along the base of the statues and looking up at them. He was about to order the intruder out, when he realized it was a woman, scantily clad and painted gold and black. Anak-sun-amun. So she had come to the temple with her fellows.

She did not hear him approach till he was very near, for Imhotep could move with almost unnatural silence when the situation required it. She turned and looked at him warily, perhaps expecting to be told to leave, but Imhotep was not inclined to do that. He stood beside her, and they both looked up at the sculptures for several moments.

"You like them?" he finally asked. Anak-sun-amun nodded, contemplating a half-finished statue of Anubis that seemed to be stepping forth from the living rock itself.

"They look as if they might speak," she observed solemnly.

Imhotep shrugged. "Perhaps."

She turned to him, a smile visible in her eyes if not in her mouth. "Don't the gods speak to you, High Priest?"

"It is hard to tell when the gods are speaking. But sometimes, in dreams..." Imhotep trailed off. Any mystical explanation he would normally give to a awe-struck worshiper seemed painfully inadequate for a person of Anak-sun-amun's perception. There was nothing he could say, and her presence, even the soft sound of her breathing, was distracting him again.

"I dreamed last night," she stated, as if daring him to press her for details. Against his better judgment, Imhotep decided to take the bait.

"Of what?"

"I was taken to the Pharaoh's chamber as usual. Two Med-jai guards escorted me there. They left me at the door, and I went in," she paused briefly. "But when I pushed aside the curtain, it was not Pharaoh there, but you instead." She stopped and turned to look him in the eyes. "And my heart rejoiced."

Clever, clever woman, Imhotep thought appreciatively. She was testing him. Whether she had actually dreamt that or merely made it up was irrelevant. With just a few sentences, she had neatly placed him in a position where he would be forced to reveal his hand. Would he rebuke her for having such thoughts, even in sleep, or would he seem to approve? 

They stood there looking at each other, the tension between them almost thick enough to touch. Then Anak-sun-amun shifted her posture slightly, relaxed her shoulders, and raised her eyebrows as if to say "Well?" It couldn't have been intentional on her part, but he found that small movement incredibly alluring, and in that instant he made his decision.

Slowly and deliberately, so she could escape if she chose, he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head. "I would rejoice too, if it were true," he whispered, and lowered his lips to hers.

At first he only brushed them lightly, testing her reaction. When she sighed with pleasure and leaned into the kiss, he deepened it, slipping his tongue into her mouth and exploring gently. She matched his enthusiasm, until he was lost in her sweetness and softness and sandalwood perfume. How hard it was not to put his arms around her and pull her against him! She must have been thinking the same thing, for she made a small sound of frustration and took a step closer. Summoning all his willpower, Imhotep reluctantly broke the kiss and stood back.

"Go, before I shame us both," he said, not looking at her.

"It is not only your fault," she protested, trying to catch his eye.

Imhotep smiled ruefully. "I would not have you punished for any reason. Go, before we are both covered in paint."

Anak-sun-amun nodded. She understood that this was not the time or the place. Soon the group she had come with would want to return home, and they should not have to come looking for her. She hesitated only a second longer, and then left the room with quick steps, not looking back. 

"My treasure," Imhotep murmured, the endearment falling of its own accord from his lips as he watched her retreating figure. He did not look away until she rejoined her group, well out into the main sanctuary. Then he turned to gaze up at the forbidding expressions of the stone images around him. They had seen everything, but they could not tell of it. Or could they? For the first time in his tenure as a priest, Imhotep found himself nervous in the presence of the gods, and he left the room as though he was being pursued.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

For the next week, the only thing that kept Anak-sun-amun's life bearable was the memory of that kiss and the desire to repeat the experience. When she went about the palace she could not help but imagine him walking with her, and when she lay down to sleep she pictured him beside her, his strong arms around her, his beautiful voice whispering "My treasure," in her ear. She could scarcely believe he had actually called her that, but she had heard him quite clearly as she was leaving. The memory inevitably made a smile come to her face, sometimes at inappropriate times, but it was utterly impossible to get him off her mind. She formed and rejected a dozen plans for seeing him more often, ranging from elaborate disguises to bribing a palace guard to feigning illness so she would be sent to the temple physicians. All of the plans had serious flaws, but she kept thinking, for she could not bring herself to believe that it was impossible.

Her chance came on a stiflingly hot day, when there was no breeze and the air shimmered like brass in the distance, cloaking the buildings and monuments in rippling waves. For some time, Pharaoh had been planning a trip of inspection to several other nearby cities, and in spite of the heat, which showed no sign of letting up, he insisted on leaving that very day. He did, however, decide to cut down the size of the party that would be going.

So Anak-sun-amun was informed that morning that she would be staying behind.

She was there, of course, to see the group off, along with numerous other courtiers, servants, and hangers-on. A smile kept tugging at the corner of her mouth, causing her to worry if anyone would notice. No one said anything, but that did not mean they had not seen.

Everyone was standing around the main palace entrance, talking and trying to seem useful and important, as the chariots and wagons were loaded with all the necessary supplies for the trip. There was much rushing about and orders being flung, and the Med-jai stalked among the others, making sure that all was as it should be. Soon, a group of priests became visible, exiting the Temple of Osiris across the great square and making their way toward the palace.

Anak-sun-amun was ecstatic to see that Imhotep was among them. Even at a great distance he was unmistakable. Her hidden smile threatened to burst out into the open, so much that she had to turn her head and pretend to be very interested in the activities of one of the drivers as he inspected a horse's hooves. 

Eventually the priests joined the main group, glad to be in the shade again, for the sun in the middle of the square was oppressive. Imhotep went immediately to the Pharaoh and they conversed, while the other priests spread out a bit, greeting people they knew, but staying nearby unless their superior should require assistance.

After interminable fussing and socializing, the travelers finally got into their chariots or their wagons. Imhotep and the other priests spoke a blessing, wishing the Pharaoh well on his journey, and the drivers encouraged the horses out. They made their way across the square, past the ever-burning fire, and wound down one of the main streets, on their way out of the city.

They would not return for many days, and the journey was likely to be slowed even further if this heat wave continued. It would be hard on the horses. Indeed, the captain of the chariots had tried to talk Pharaoh out of going till it cooled off some, but Seti had brushed that idea off and demoted the captain for his trouble. The Pharaoh was a stubborn man, and he did not take well to being contradicted. 

The crowd on the steps was beginning to break up, as people went inside or off to other duties. Anak-sun-amun tried to catch Imhotep's eye, but he was deep in conversation with some courtier or other. She sighed and looked around for someone she could talk to, or another excuse to hang around on the steps. She spotted Sedet on the opposite side of the entrance, sitting on a bench and not looking too healthy in the heat. She was about halfway to her when a voice spoke from behind her and to her right.

"Good day, my lady," Imhotep! She would know that voice anywhere. She turned, and her heart almost leaped into her mouth at the sight of him, but she managed to give an impersonal yet respectful bow.

"Good day, High Priest," she answered.

"So you are not accompanying His Majesty after all?" The sight of his beautiful lips moving as he spoke was nearly driving Anak-sun-amun mad.

"I would rather stay here. It is not the best time for a journey." 

Imhotep raised his eyebrows. "It is not wise to disagree with Pharaoh. Look at what happened to the captain of the chariots." A flash of bitterness crossed his features, and Anak-sun-amun realized that he was thinking of his murdered colleague. She kept her tone light and easygoing.

"I may have done a few things in my life that were not wise, but I am the better for it." she countered. She was flirting and she knew it, but it was rather amusing to do this out in the open, under the guise of a socially correct conversation.

"The better? How so?" he asked sternly, affecting disapproval.

"In that I learned things I would not know otherwise. Look at Pharaoh's son Rameses, whom he put in charge while he is gone. He is young, and may do something unwise, but he will only learn from it."

"Pharaoh does not fully trust him yet," Imhotep's tone told her he was about to impart some significant information.

"Really?" Anak-sun-amun asked with great interest.

"He has asked me to make myself available to advise him. I may be at the palace fairly often for a while."

This was welcome news indeed, but Anak-sun-amun managed to keep her face expressionless. "That is good to know. It reassures me, High Priest."

Imhotep smiled kindly. "You need not worry about anything, my lady. With all due respect, your beauty has ensured you a high place in this court."

Anak-sun-amun looked at the ground in a great show of modesty. "I am well aware that my beauty is my treasure," She emphasized those last two words and looked up at Imhotep, seeing the glint of recognition in his eyes. At the same time she noticed Sedet waving to her, trying to get her attention from the bench at the other side of the courtyard. "I must go. Be well, High Priest." She made another bow and went to go see what Sedet wanted, but her mind was not on the older woman. It was on someone much more...interesting, to say the least.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Predictably, Sedet was feeling rather wilted by the heat. She wanted Anak-sun-amun to help her up the stairs and back to the women's quarters, which Anak-sun-amun did more or less cheerfully. She was in a good mood that nothing so trivial as this could disturb. Pharaoh would be gone for at least two weeks, taking the Med-jai with him, Imhotep had the most excellent of reasons to be at the palace, and she was not required to wear paint when she was not in public.

The situation could not possibly have been better. But...what if she had mistaken Imhotep's intentions? What did he want from her, really? It was even just possible that Pharaoh had put him up to this, to see where her true loyalties lay. The thought sobered her. Well, then, she would let the High Priest make the next move, but as soon as he approached her, there would be no more games. She would get the answers she needed, and not need to wonder anymore.

She got Sedet settled, and sat with her a while to be sure that the old woman was all right. Later, when the fierce heat had abated somewhat, several other of the palace women went to play Hounds and Jackals on the porch, and Anak-sun-amun willingly joined them. The board game did pass the time, and she took a perverse pleasure in beating Tuya quite quickly, provoking some snide comments from a few and complements on her cleverness from others.

It was soon time for the evening meal, but the heat of the day had utterly robbed Anak-sun-amun of her appetite, and instead of going to the dining hall with the others, she returned alone to the private areas of the palace. The lamps had just been lit, the faint smell of their smoke filling the corridors and their warm golden glow caressing the painted figures on the walls. Anak-sun-amun paused to look up at them, feeling dwarfed in their presence. She heard a soft sound, like footsteps behind her, but turning, she saw no one. A little confused, she was about to continue when an statuesque shape of the High Priest detached itself from the shadow of a pillar and walked towards her. 

"Did enjoy your game?" he asked, reaching out to touch her cheek lightly. Anak-sun-amun ducked his hand, determined to skip the small talk and find out exactly what his purpose in paying so much attention to her was. She also found herself annoyed that, since he knew she and the other women had been playing Hounds and Jackals, he had probably seen them at some point, but she had never seen him.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded. He reached for her a second time, and she backed up again but found herself against the wall. The High Priest ran gentle fingers through her hair and settled his hand on the back of her neck. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel his hands all over her body, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "If you are testing my loyalty to His Majesty, you may stop, for I have already failed." 

"I am not testing you," he said, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her skin. She closed her eyes in rapture, unable to keep a cool head while he was touching her. He could make her legs melt from under her without the slightest effort. It wasn't fair. 

"Don't you know what you do to me?" her voice was almost a moan. Imhotep leaned forward, his breath deliciously warm on her ear.

"You fascinate me, Anak-sun-amun. I want to know every thought in your mind and every inch of your body. I want the light in your eyes to never die."

"Imhotep..." it was the first time she had ever called him by his name, and it fit, somehow, a word meant to be gasped, moaned, and sighed in the heat of passion. Suddenly she wanted him desperately, more than she had ever wanted anything else.

She turned her face to him, seeking his lips, and he swept her up into a confident and insistent kiss that she was only too happy to return. It was like a whirlwind, destroying her sense of balance and leaving only him for her to cling to, like a solid rock of support. His hands roamed up and down her back, then settled on her hips and began to work her skirt upwards, and she broke the kiss and looked around for someplace else to continue this. By Isis, they were in a public corridor. Anyone could walk past at any moment.

Imhotep understood, and started to work them toward the nearest door even as he captured her lips again. The door was of solid, gleaming gold, with beautiful, ornate patterns covering it, and it was not guarded now since its usual occupant was not currently in the palace.

It was the door to the Pharaoh's chambers. Imhotep placed his hand on the handle and opened it, and they went inside.

It was dark within, except for a faint light coming through the balcony curtains, but Anak-sun-amun knew this room as well as she knew hers. Somehow they made their way toward the bed, all roving lips and exploring hands. Imhotep's robe hit the floor just past the shimmering curtain, and Anak-sun-amun's dress followed. She moaned as Imhotep found a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

"Yes," she encouraged. "Make me forget him."

"Gladly," he murmured as he lay down on the bed and pulled her on top of him.

Pharaoh was gone for seventeen days, and during that time, Imhotep and Anak-sun-amun saw each other almost every day, and usually wound up in the same place, as it was conveniently uninhabited. Imhotep was amazed at how endlessly inventive Anak-sun-amun was, as if she wanted to defile the Pharaoh's bed in every delicious way possible. He actually asked her once if that was the case. She thought about it for a moment before answering.

"I suppose that is a benefit," she concluded, slipping from the bed and reaching for her clothing. Imhotep was not sure he wanted her to put it on just yet, so he stood up and put his arms around her from behind, enjoying the way she relaxed against him. She gave a little laugh.

"What is it?" he asked, diverted from his exploration of the back of her neck.

"Look," she said, and pointed to the opposite wall, where their embracing forms were visible in the mirror that hung there. "Ah," he nodded, and moved them over to get a better look. "You are beautiful," he stated matter-of-factly, resting his chin on her shoulder and sliding his hands up over her stomach to cup her breasts.

"It is good to hear that compliment addressed to me and not to His Majesty." and she turned her head to kiss Imhotep's cheek.

"If it were anyone else, I would send him to meet Osiris before I let him touch you again."

She turned in his arms to face him. "I hope it will not come to that. But," she was whispering now, her breath tickling his ear. "I will find a way to be yours forever."

Imhotep pulled her even closer. "Oh, my treasure, I would do anything to make it so." And he kissed her, putting all the depth of feeling he had into that gesture.

Later, when he was alone, he had reason to consider his words again. How far was he willing to go? He decided that it was a very long way, though the exact limits of that were still unclear to him. He was certain that he couldn't live without her. She was like an addictive drug, but far sweeter than any wine. The taste of her mouth, the blissful feeling of all four of her long, elegant limbs wrapped around him, the scent of her hair falling over his face- that was paradise. Nothing else could even come close. And nothing else was worthy of so great a sacrifice.

He considered the situation, but came up with no good solutions before the day when Pharaoh and his traveling companions returned, with much pomp and pageantry and jingling of harnesses. Imhotep reported to Seti that everything had gone smoothly in his absence, while thinking that if only Seti knew how smoothly, his life and Anak-sun-amun's would both be forfeit. But the danger seemed hardly to matter now, swept aside by the hateful fact that now that Pharaoh had returned, Anak-sun-amun would have to serve his desires once again, instead of being in Imhotep's arms where she belonged. The knowledge stuck bitterly in his throat, and he left the palace feeling subdued, lost in thought, so much so that he nearly bumped into a hurrying lackey. The man apologized profusely and scuttled away, wondering what weighty matters caused the High Priest to be so somber today.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Imhotep had not looked at Anak-sun-amun during the whole time he was in the throne room giving his report. She understood why, of course- it was vital that they not cause suspicion- but it broke her heart to see him indifferent to her like that. After Pharaoh dismissed him he had left the hall, his pace almost a trudge, and Anak-sun-amun stole surreptitious glances at his tall figure until he was out of sight. Then, suddenly, her attention was diverted when the Pharaoh called out to her from his throne.

"Anak-sun-amun!" Obediently but not quite sure what to expect she went to his side. "I would like..." Suddenly the slave who had been fanning the Pharaoh took an unfortunate step backward, bumping into Anak-sun-amun. Pharaoh's nonchalant expression turned to anger, and the slave, understandably, looked terrified, trying to stammer out an apology.

"How dare you touch her?" thundered the Pharaoh.

"My lord, it was nothing, only an accident..." protested Anak-sun-amun, but Pharaoh was not going to be swayed. He signaled to the Med-jai who were always close by, and two of them advanced on the slave. The unfortunate man tried to bolt down the stairs from the dais, but the guards were upon him like hungry leopards, grabbing him roughly by the arms and hauling him back before the throne. Anak-sun-amun stood stupefied at the corner of the dais. "My lord, it was an accident, and I've come to no harm," she tried again, unwilling to see the slave punished because of her clumsiness. She had not really been looking at where she was going. 

Pharaoh continued to ignore her. The captured man was crying now, clearly in fear for his life. She drew herself up and spoke louder.

"My lord, you yourself have hurt me much more than this."

Silence suddenly reigned in the throne room. Pharaoh turned his head slowly toward her, his expression one of righteous indignation. "What did you say?"

"I said it was nothing, my lord, compared to what you have done to me. Or don't you remember the night of the last feast you gave?" 

"Insolent!" he yelled, the veins in his forehead standing out in his anger like pulsing snakes. He turned to the Med-jai who were not occupied with the prisoner. "Take Anak-sun-amun to her quarters. You have my permission to touch her if she does not cooperate. Instruct her maids that henceforth, starting today, she is to be painted every day, even when she is not leaving the palace." Without a word the two Med-jai took their places on either side of Anak-sun-amun. She stood still, stunned by the impact of those words. That meant that even if Imhotep was in the palace... 

"And as for this worm..." continued the Pharaoh. "Finish him."

Anak-sun-amun gasped and quickly turned and hurried out of the room before the Med-jai could force her to do so, as if her quick steps could block the pleas for mercy coming from the doomed slave. Even out of hearing range of the throne room, she continued to almost run, fleeing from the scene she had just witnessed, the Med-jai keeping up with her but just slightly behind.

When she reached the women's quarters she ignored the maid carefully sweeping the floor of the outer room and went straight into her bedchamber. Through the door she heard the Med-jai giving the maid Pharaoh's instructions, and her wide-eyed response.

When the two men had gone, Anak-sun-amun put her ear to the door and listened. Hearing no voices, she concluded that that one maid must be the only one here right now. Good. She went out into the main room. She had an idea, and was not at all sure it would work, but it was better than taking Pharaoh's new orders lying down. Something had to be done.

"Fetch a scribe, but do not tell anyone else." she ordered, pacing the room. It was impossible to stand still.

"My lady, do you think we should..." the maid's voice trailed off as she pointed to the bathing room, where the brushes and jars of paint stood on the shelves.

"Soon enough, but first do what I say. I would like him to write a letter for me."

"Is that wise..." began the maid again, but fell silent when she saw Anak-sun-amun's angry expression. Murmuring an apology, she left the room, returning impossibly quickly with two other women in tow and the scribe, as ordered. He was a young, naive looking man, and that was all to the good. He readied his things and sat on the floor cross-legged as Anak-sun-amun continued to pace, irritably shrugging off the servants when they tried to get her to sit down. The soft slap of her sandals on the floor seemed an inadequate expression of the anger and disappointment she was feeling.

"Go into the next room," she ordered the women. They did nothing, merely stared at her, unsure what course of action to take.

"Go!" she commanded impatiently. "The letter I am about to send may not please his Majesty, so it is better if you do not hear it." The three exchanged glances and left, but Anak-sun-amun knew they would not go far. Then she turned to the nervous scribe. After another moment of getting her thoughts together, she began to dictate, pacing all the while, the scribe's pen scribbling in reaction.

Greetings to my dearest and most honored father, Nefer-ka-re, Baron of Amenthis. It is my hope that the gods continue to smile on you in all your endeavors, and also upon my mother, sisters, and brothers. I must inform you, however, that I am unhappy at the royal court. Since I am in favor with his Majesty the Pharaoh, some of the other women are jealous of me, and they make my life unbearable. The affections of His Majesty, while sweet, are not enough to make up for it. The city air itself does not agree with me, and I long for the fresh scents of the fields around Amenthis. I entreat you a thousand times to ask Pharaoh to allow me to return home, if only for a short time. Say to him that my mother and sisters miss me dearly, but do not mention this letter, for I do not wish His Majesty to know that I am unhappy. I beg of you to do me this favor, for I fear I shall soon die if I remain much longer in Thebes. I remain always your obedient and faithful daughter, Anak-sun-amun. 

She continued to walk the floor, as the scribe piped up nervously "Pardon me for asking, lady, but...you are from Amenthis?"

"Yes," she answered shortly, not in the mood for small talk.

"I am also, lady," he continued hesitantly, rolling the papyrus and writing the recipient's name on the outside.

"Really," she turned to him, mildly interested. He could be useful. "What is your name?" 

"Anurith, lady."

"I need a messenger to take the letter. Do you know anyone who is going that way soon?" 

"Yes, in fact...I will be. I've been given leave to visit my family there. I leave tomorrow."

"Excellent. Here, take this." She took a bracelet off her arm, heavy gold studded with blue lapis. It was worth more than a junior scribe like Anurith could hope to make in a year. His eyes bulged, astounded, but he made no move to touch it.

"Take it," she insisted. "It is worth it to me to have the letter delivered safely." Anurith put out his hand and touched the bracelet gingerly, as if it might disintegrate under his fingers. Tired of his timidity, Anak-sun-amun took his hand and pressed the bracelet into it, folding his fingers over the metal. Anurith shrank from her touch, for he knew it was forbidden, but at least he held onto the bracelet. "And keep silence on this matter," Anak-sun-amun added, sternly. "If His Majesty should ask you directly, you may tell him of it, but otherwise, say nothing."

"I will not. Thank you, my lady," he stammered, staring at the gorgeous item in his hand.

"If you do your task properly, I will be the one who should thank you." Anak-sun-amun softened her tone a bit, not wishing to frighten the boy out of his wits. "Come, seal the scroll so that I may stamp it," she prompted, taking off her ring to do just that. Anurith obeyed, and then left the room with the letter, clutching the bracelet so hard his knuckles were white.

Anak-sun-amun stood for a moment, staring at the now closed door. The letter was a pack of lies, of course. Well, she was certainly unhappy at the palace, though for totally different reasons than she had indicated. There had been some jealousy, but those were isolated incidents, and mainly confined to Tuya, Pharaoh's previous favorite. To most of the women, she had realized, she was only the latest in Seti's long line of passing fancies, not worth wasting energy on, as she would be supplanted soon enough. And the very idea of calling Pharaoh's affections "sweet"! They were anything but that, empty and hollow compared to Imhotep's heartfelt passion. She had had slight qualms about deceiving her family like this, but quickly brushed them off. If the letter achieved her objective, getting her away from the palace, that would justify the means. If she and Imhotep were going to be together, this was the most important step. Once out from under Pharaoh's thumb, in the safety and relative freedom of her father's household in Amenthis, she could find a way to communicate with Imhotep, and they would figure out the rest of the details.

But now there was nothing else to be done until she had an answer to the letter. Sighing in resignation, Anak-sun-amun called the servants back in. The four women went together into the bathing room, where Anak-sun-amun stripped off her clothes and surrendered herself meekly to their brushes.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

For the next several days, Anak-sun-amun was restless. She began hanging around the throne room more than usual, hoping to catch a glimpse of Imhotep and somehow tell him of her plan, but he did not come to the palace. She began to worry. Had she only been a temporary diversion to him, after all?

When she was not in the throne room, she wandered the halls aimlessly, lost in thought. She ate little and slept fitfully, tormented by bizarre dreams that she could never remember when she woke up. And the paint- she had never worn it for more than a day at a time, and it was torture. Just having to be constantly careful of it was bad enough, but it's onerous presence turned the slightest itch into a living hell. Not to mention it was a constant reminder of Pharaoh's absolute possession of her. And Seti took care to remind her of that in words whenever he saw her, which was far too often for Anak-sun-amun's liking.

She was so taken up with these concerns that she hardly gave it a thought when several members of the royal household fell ill of some kind of fever. But when Anak-sun-amun woke on the fourth day after she had sent the letter, she knew something was wrong. Her head ached, her throat felt tight, and she was alternately burning hot and chilled to the bone. She had every intention of staying in bed that day, but all too soon Sedet poked her head around the door and informed her that Pharaoh desired her presence in the throne room.

Could it be that her letter had been answered? It was even just possible that her father had come in person. She levered herself out of bed, the motion intensifying the pounding in her skull and sending the world into a spin around her. After a moment, though, it righted itself, and she found she could walk almost normally. She went to the bathing room, where Sedet applied a spare pattern of stripes to her skin, just a token, really, for they both knew that she should attend the Pharaoh as soon as possible. The perfunctory paint job was soon done and they were on their way.

The usual group of courtiers and hangers on were assembled in the throne room, but one in particular stood out for Anak-sun-amun. Imhotep stood to one side of the huge room, alert, but uninvolved in any of the various conversations taking place. She made bold to smile at him slightly, and he returned it. Suddenly she felt warm again. That smile left her no doubt that he did care, and she renewed her pledge to herself that she would be free of the Pharaoh, somehow, and in Imhotep's arms again, no matter what it took.

She approached the throne and bowed to Seti, feeling apprehensive. Her quick glance had shown no sign of her father in the room, but that did not mean anything. Still, she worried, and her head was starting to ache again.

"I got the most interesting letter this morning," Pharaoh began with no preamble. Anak-sun-amun listened attentively, but her eyes were continuously drawn to Imhotep, standing stolidly in his corner, and she had to drag her attention back where it belonged.

"It's from your father. It appears your mother and sisters miss you dearly," his voice was sarcastic, mean. "And want you to return home to them."

Pharaoh rose from his throne and began to pace back and forth. "What they do not seem to understand is that you are my possession now."

"My lord," Anak-sun-amun spoke up, knowing it was impertinent, but it was now or never. She had to make her case. "My sisters are very young. It is understandable that they miss me. Would Your Majesty permit me to visit them, at least? Only for a short time?" 

"No! Lately your attitude displeases me, Anak-sun-amun. I will not reward you for it by allowing you to leave Thebes." 

Suddenly Imhotep, who had been listening unobtrusively to the whole conversation, stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he began, putting on a great show of respect. "Perhaps it would be wise to permit a visit. Baron Nefer-Ka-Re has been a faithful servant to you, and Isis and Osiris have shown us that family affection..." 

"Silence! Spare me your pious protestations, High Priest. I know you do not believe a word of them yourself." 

Imhotep subsided, but under his impassive mask he was thinking quickly, trying to salvage the situation. He did not know exactly what was going on here, but he was fairly sure that this letter, coming so soon on the heels of Pharaoh's return, had been engineered by Anak-sun-amun somehow. He must back her up in any way he could, but subtly.

Pharaoh was speaking again, but the words made no sense to Anak-sun-amun. She felt hot, lightheaded, and the objects and people in the room had taken on an unreal, gray color. Suddenly her legs were totally unable to support her, and she slipped into peaceful darkness, slumping against Sedet's shoulder. 

The second Imhotep saw her faint, he sprang forward, indiscreet in his worry for her. Fortunately he was not the only one to react like that, but he was the only one who had the courage to take Anak-sun-amun's weight from the sagging servant woman and lay her down on the floor. He put his hand to her forehead. By Horus! She was burning up with fever.

"The Lady is not well. She must be taken to the Temple physicians," he ordered urgently, but the circle of stunned people around them did not move.

Pharaoh barged through the knot of people, who sluggishly parted for him. "She must see a physician!" urged Imhotep, speaking to Seti now.

"She's faking," sneered Seti. Imhotep felt his anger boil up almost uncontrollably. Pharaoh cared nothing for her! To him she was only a plaything, to be guarded jealously even if it killed her. Whereas to Imhotep she was life itself, like a drink of cool water in the desert! What injustice that she should be chained to a man who would never appreciate her properly, while the one who loved her with all his soul stood by and looked on. With great difficulty he mastered his emotions and spoke in a normal, if urgent, tone of voice.

"No one can fake a fever like that. Touch her forehead if you don't believe me!"

Rather than risk himself by doing so, Pharaoh beckoned a lackey forward. The man laid his hand against Anak-sun-amun's cheek and nodded, confirming what Imhotep had said. Seti appeared to waver.

"Only if she is guarded by two Med-jai at all times." He nodded sharply, as if this was an admirable solution to the problem.

"Your Majesty," began Imhotep sternly, in his best All-Powerful High Priest voice, standing up to his full height so that he was looking down at the Pharaoh. "You know as well as I do that armed guards are not permitted in the infirmaries. Besides upsetting the other patients, it would also offend the gods, a step which I am sure Your Majesty does not want to take. I personally guarantee you that she will be well-looked after, and her virtue uncompromised. But she could be quite seriously ill. I know that Your Majesty bears her much affection, and if you wish her to recover, you must be reasonable about this."

The throne room was dead silent. No one present had ever heard anyone speak like this to the Pharaoh before. Perhaps half of them expected Seti to call on his Med-jai to execute the High Priest immediately, but he did not. He and Imhotep stood looking at each other for a long moment, as though fighting a silent battle of wills. Finally the Pharaoh nodded.

"Very well. My Med-jai will check on her daily, but they will not stay in the infirmary."

Imhotep assented. This was all the concession he was going to get. He turned back to Anak-sun-amun's prone form and called to a servant to bring a litter. As if that was a signal, everyone in the room began babbling at once. The tension was slowly dissolving, but before Imhotep could really relax, the Pharaoh grabbed his arm and spoke in a rough near-whisper.

"I do not know what game you are playing, if any, Imhotep, but I warn you, I will hold you personally responsible if anything happens to her."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Imhotep replied, all affability. "I know how much she means to you." That comment appeared to satisfy the Pharaoh, and he returned to his throne. A moment later a litter was carried in, but no one seemed willing to touch Anak-sun-amun. They all hovered just out of range, looking nervously at Pharaoh, who seemed to be ignoring the whole situation. Impatient, Imhotep stepped forward and knelt by her side. She was beginning to stir, but the far-away look in her eyes suggested that she wasn't truly aware of her surroundings. She did, however, smile faintly when she saw him bending over her. 

"Imhotep," she whispered, gazing at him.

"Shhh, don't talk." he murmured, lifting her in his arms.

Her smile faded, and her expression turned sad. "It didn't work. It didn't work." She was talking to herself now, unaware of Imhotep, though he could hear every word. "I fear I shall never be free of the Pharaoh except in death." Her face screwed up as if in pain, and she lapsed again into semiconsciousness. Imhotep laid her carefully on the litter, arranging her arms in what seemed like a comfortable position. Peremptorily he ordered the four priests who had accompanied him to take her to the temple and see her settled. As expected, two Med-jai joined them on the Pharaoh's instructions, but Imhotep spoke quickly to Pepy, telling him to be sure that the guards did not stay long.

As the group left the palace, carrying the litter, Imhotep looked down at himself. The sleeves of his robe, his pendant, the symbol of his office, and the bare skin of his hands, chest, and stomach were all covered with steaks and smears of gold and black paint, and some of the courtiers were gawking at him like they had never seen him before. It seemed to him almost like a mark of shame, though none of the others could possibly know its true meaning. Affecting disgust at the shiny coating, he approached the Pharaoh's throne.

"I would wash, Your Majesty. I will return afterwards if you have more to discuss with me."

"Yes, yes, by all means," agreed Seti, dismissing him. Imhotep bowed in acknowledgment and left the throne room, ignoring the stares and whispered comments at his back.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Back in his quarters in the Temple Imhotep bathed and changed clothes, then went to the infirmary. Anak-sun-amun was indeed there, lying in one of the beds. One of the physicians was readying some kind of potion, and his assistant was placing cool, wet cloths on her forehead, so Imhotep did no more than look for a moment from the doorway. She seemed well-cared for, certainly. He wished he could go sit beside her for a while, but that would be unseemly, and besides, Pharaoh was expecting him back. Sighing, he turned his steps to the outer entrance of the Temple.

Imhotep could not sleep that night. After lying on his bed awake for what must have been hours, he decided it was useless and got up, pulling on his robe and gliding soundlessly from the room. No one else was about at this hour, and the Temple was dark except for scattered torches, one of which he took from its bracket to light his way. He was not planning to go anywhere in particular, but he soon found himself before the door of the preparation chamber on the level below the sanctuary, and he suddenly recalled something Anak-sun-amun had said. "I shall never be free of the Pharaoh, except in death." 

He paused for a moment, thinking. As High Priest of Osiris and Keeper of the Dead, Imhotep was privy to some unusual knowledge that few others had access to. One of these pieces of information was that, under certain circumstances, it is possible to resurrect the dead.

Still not sure why, exactly, he was doing this, he pushed open the door to the preparation room with a creak. Within, all was unearthly still. The heavy stone tables, the racks of neatly stored, sharpened instruments, seemed to take on greater significance in the dark and silence. In one corner an empty coffin stood propped, its painted face gazing into eternity. In another corner a table held a shadowy, obscure shape, impossible to identify at this distance, but which Imhotep knew was the body of the priest Tiamon, three weeks dead and slowly drying under heaps of natron.

One day would he see Anak-sun-amun lying on one of these tables, cold and pale in death, her beautiful eyes closed forever?

No! His mind rejected the thought as soon as it came to him. It would not be forever. Death was only the beginning! For them- the beginning of happiness! And the Book of the Dead, now lying hidden at Hamunaptura, would show them the way.

Anak-sun-amun lay ill for nine days, and, as promised, two Med-jai guards came in every morning, and sometimes in the afternoon as well, to prowl around the infirmary and ask all manner of suspicious questions. Imhotep made sure that one of his priests was always on hand to send them on their way as soon as possible, but they did not go far. There was always a small group of them posted outside the temple, watching the entrances like hungry wolves. No one left or entered the Temple without them knowing. Their presence weighed heavily on Imhotep's mind, especially after Anak-sun-amun's fever broke and she slowly began to regain her strength.

Sooner or later she would have to return to the palace. And then what would happen? Imhotep had formed a plan, but he had to discuss it with Anak-sun-amun first, as it was very dangerous. Anything that involved the Book of the Dead, not to mention disobedience to a Pharaoh, was bound to be.

He was passing the infirmary one afternoon when the head Med-jai stepped in front of him and bowed.

"High Priest, the physicians have told us that Lady Anak-sun-amun is out of danger. They want her to stay here one more night, but we will be returning her to the palace tomorrow."

Imhotep nodded politely, though he felt his heart sink. "Of course. Send someone to tell His Majesty- I'm sure he will be glad to hear it."

The Med-jai continued toward the Temple exit, and Imhotep looked around the doorframe into the infirmary. Anak-sun-amun was sitting up in bed, her face turned away from him, talking with a young woman who was one of the infirmary assistants. Imhotep had to look away; if he stared at her much longer he might not be able to stop himself from going to her and covering her face with kisses. And now was not the time for that.

But she had one more night to spend in the Temple, and Imhotep was not going to waste it.

He waited until after sunset, when the lamps had been extinguished, and then made his way softly back to the infirmary. The moonlight streamed in through the small, high window, reminding Imhotep of the last time there had been a full moon: the night of the feast, when he had walked Anak-sun-amun to her quarters and they had paused in the garden and looked at the stars. He was struck by a sense of things having come full circle. But was it really only a month ago that he had first laid eyes on her? So much had happened since then, but whether it was for better or worse only the gods could say. 

Anak-sun-amun slept peacefully, her hair spreading over the pillow, so beautiful that Imhotep had to remind himself to breathe. Gently he brushed his hand over her cheek, and she stirred slightly. 

"Love," he whispered. She did not wake, so he bent over her and tenderly pressed his mouth to hers, teasing her lips apart with his tongue. That got her attention, and she was responding to the kiss before she was fully awake. After a moment she opened her eyes.

"Is this a dream?"she asked sleepily, and Imhotep smiled as he stood up.

"No. Come, my treasure, let's go someplace where we can talk." He extended his hand and helped her out of bed, and they left the infirmary together. The few other patients in the large room slept on, oblivious to the treachery that they might have witnessed.

Anak-sun-amun walked a little more slowly than usual, but otherwise seemed fully recovered. Imhotep was indescribably relieved that this was so, but it inevitably reminded him that as of tomorrow she would be back in Pharaoh's palace, and probably in the lecherous old man's bed as well. The thought of him touching Anak-sun-amun ever again was unbearable.

Suddenly the plan Imhotep had been forming began to take on a new and even more blasphemous twist as he realized that not only did he want to free his lover from Seti's clutches, he also wanted revenge for all the unhappiness he had given her. And he wanted the Pharaoh to know, in his last, fear-filled moments, exactly why Imhotep was so concerned about a mere concubine. The look of shocked realization on his face would be sweet indeed. Imhotep's lips turned up in a smile of anticipation.

Once they were inside Imhotep's chambers, Anak-sun-amun sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around at the magnificent paintings on religious subjects that decorated the walls. The furniture, however, was frugal, giving the impression that the High Priest lived around these masterpieces, instead of with them. Imhotep sat beside Anak-sun-amun and put his arm around her, stroking her cheek with the other hand.

"You're going back to the palace tomorrow," he said, and she heard the infinite sadness and regret in his voice.

"I know," she said, nodding, a catch in her voice. "I think I would rather die."

"Anak-sun-amun," he said, his tone turning serious as he placed his hands on her shoulders and made her look at him. "If you would like to be free of the Pharaoh, I have a plan, but you will have to be very brave."

"I would do anything." The determination in her voice left no room for doubt.

Imhotep began to explain to her. There was a spell, he said, contained in the secret Book of the Dead, that had the power to raise the deceased back to life. If Anak-sun-amun were to die, and be taken to the Temple for mummification, Imhotep and the priests loyal to him could steal her body, take it to Hamunaptura, the City of the Dead, and there perform the ritual that would give her life again. From there it would be a simple enough matter for the two of them to quietly disappear and start life over again, far from Thebes. And they would be together. Imhotep emphasized that fact. 

"So...I would have to kill myself?" Anak-sun-amun asked, wide-eyed. She had turned noticeably paler while Imhotep was explaining his plan.

"Yes." Imhotep nodded.

"If it is the only way, it is the only way." she said, drawing herself up. "But if I must die, I want to take my master with me." The word "master" was said with so much sarcasm and hatred that Imhotep could feel it like a knife on his skin. So, she had had the same idea he had. He found himself hesitating, though.

"Are you sure?" he asked. To do that was blasphemy of the highest kind, unheard of in all the land of Egypt. 

"I am not afraid," Anak-sun-amun put in. "If he lives, he will only find another favorite, and some other young woman will end up just like me."

Imhotep embraced her fiercely, overcome with love for such courage and determination. "There is no one like you," he whispered against her neck. She moaned as his lips brushed her skin, pulling him closer, encouraging him. He worried about her, though- she was so soon out of her sickbed.

He backed away from her, running his fingers through her silky hair. "Are you really strong enough for this?" He asked, trying to make his voice stern, demanding the truth.

"For you, always," she answered with a coquettish smile, and lay back on the bed invitingly. The sight of her stretched out before him made his desire flare up afresh, and he lay down beside her and captured her lips with his, giving no more thought to the past or the future.


	10. Chapter 10 The End

Chapter 10

The day they had selected for the execution of their plan came all too soon. Just as a Pharaoh prepares for his death by filling his tomb with beautiful and useful objects, Anak-sun-amun prepared that morning by asking her maids to paint a particularly lovely design upon her body. And it was a work of art- stripes angled inward covered her legs, accentuating their shapeliness, a fishnet pattern on her torso gave the impression that she was wearing a skin-tight dress, and ornate scrolled shapes decorated her arms and neck. With a sense of solemn finality, she put on her best jewelry and adorned her hair with strands of glass beads. And at the appointed time, when the Pharaoh had left with his bodyguards to inspect the construction of the new Temple to Amun-Ra on the other side of the city, she went to the Pharaoh's chambers. Imhotep and his most loyal priests should already be there, having arrived at the palace earlier in inconspicuous twos and threes, and slipped into the chamber when no one was looking. They would wait until the Pharaoh returned, and then they would do what must be done.

Anak-sun-amun pushed open the ornate doors and walked through the outer chamber. Imhotep's gold-painted priests were indeed there, lining the room, still as statues but for their gleaming eyes. Their presence comforted her, even though she did not know any of them personally. Imhotep was quite sure that they were all completely loyal to him, so Anak-sum-amun trusted them, too. Their eyes following her as she made her way through the room were a little unnerving, though, and she quickened her steps to the inner chamber. Behind her, several of the priests broke their pose to make sure that the doors were shut. 

Imhotep was standing on the balcony when she went through the curtain, but he quickly turned around and went to her. Anak-sun-amun marveled all over again that this beautiful, powerful man should love her, and so much that he was willing to defy both his king and the gods to be with her. Something like a sob caught in her throat, and she lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips over his face, memorizing his high cheekbones, full, sensual lips, and limitless dark eyes, now so serious, but which she knew were accentuated by laugh lines when he smiled. She promised herself that no matter how long she remained in the underworld, she would not forget the slightest detail!

With infinite tenderness, Imhotep cupped her face in his large, competent hands and kissed her. He was almost tentative at first, as he had been the first time they ever kissed in the Temple of Osiris, but the pressure of his lips sent sweet fire coursing through Anak-sun-amun's entire being, and she leaned into him, demanding more. One of his hands dropped to her shoulder and smeared the paint there as he caressed her skin. Then there was a sudden commotion in the outer room and they broke the kiss, listening for the source of the noise.

It was Pharaoh, his authoritative voice unmistakable. "What are you doing here?" he demanded of the priests. They did not answer him, but only shut and barred the doors as they had been told to do, and his footsteps continued inexorably toward the curtain.

So soon? Was her death really come upon her this quickly? She had thought they would have some time to spend together first! And how could Pharaoh have known, anyway? Had they been betrayed? Fear stabbed at her guts like a weapon colder than the real one she would shortly have to use. 

"It will be all right," Imhotep said softly, and he withdrew a knife from his robe and handed it to her, then went and hid behind a large chair.

Pharaoh flung the curtain back, only to find Anak-sun-amun alone, leaning casually against a sculpture. She put on her best coy, innocent smile, even though she was sure that Pharaoh could hear the pounding of her heart, and see through her to the knife she concealed behind her back.

For a moment Pharaoh seemed to relax, but then his eyes dropped from her face to her left shoulder.

"Who has touched you?" he cried, pointing, livid with rage. Anak-sun-amun looked down, confused, saw that the paint was smeared quite noticeably, and only then remembered that Imhotep had touched her there. She could not think of anything to say; her mouth felt dry and she wished more than anything for someone to come and rescue her. Fortunately, Imhotep did.

He stepped soundlessly out of his hiding place behind the Pharaoh, a demon looking for revenge. Anak-sun-amun eyed his looming form gratefully, and the Pharaoh followed her eyes and turned around. With a scrape of metal Imhotep drew the sword from the Seti's own belt and held it up pointedly.

"Imhotep!" he gasped. "My priest!" Realization colored his face as, in that second, he understood the connection between them. And he was too shocked even to move.

Anak-sun-amun, however, was not. Eyes locked with her lover's, she raised the dagger high, and brought it down with all her strength into the ruler's shoulder. Blood gushed up, spilling onto the fine marble floor, the red river increasing as the sword also found its mark. Seti looked at them, eyes wide, frightened, incredulous. Despite the crown on his head, he was not the ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt now. He was a mere man, facing imminent death, knowing the depth of his betrayal, and not able to do anything about it.

It was a sight Anak-sun-amun had wanted to see for a long time. Automatically she kept stabbing, taking an unholy joy in violating his body as he had violated hers. Finally Seti lay still, but now there was a banging noise in the outer chamber, as though a ram were being applied to the door. Anak-sun-amun and Imhotep both froze and looked toward the curtain. 

"Pharaoh's bodyguards!" exclaimed Imhotep. It could be no others.

"You must go! Save yourself!" The resistant look on Imhotep's face was making Anak-sun-amun nervous. 

"No!"

"Only you can resurrect me!" She cried, desperate now. She did not want him to leave, it broke her heart to think about it, but if they were both captured it would do them no good at all. Imhotep's priests came hurrying in, and in the same second the outer door was opened with a crash and the heavy footsteps of the Med-jai began to cross the room. The priests surrounded Imhotep, trying to pull their superior out onto the balcony to their escape.

"Get away from me!" he cried, shaking them off like a lion in the midst of a group of jackals, turning back to Anak-sun-amun. "I won't leave you!" 

A wave of tenderness so strong it could have knocked her over washed over Anak-sun-amun, and she reached out to touch his face again, knowing full well that if anything went wrong, it could be the last time ever. He did not return the gesture, for both of his elbows were held firmly by his priests, and he was finally allowing himself to be dragged out onto the balcony.

"You shall live again! I will resurrect you!" he avowed, holding her eyes until he disappeared from sight around the corner.

Resolutely Anak-sun-amun turned back to the curtain. In an instant it was ripped aside, and the black-clad Med-jai stormed in, swords drawn. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw the carnage in the room. They had expected to find their Pharaoh in danger, needing to be rescued, but not a bloody corpse on the floor, presided over by a slim, scared-looking concubine holding a knife.

She must act now, before they regained their wits. The death she would bring to herself was merciful, but the Med-jai would not be nearly so kind if they captured her. Eyeing the stunned warriors defiantly, she raised the knife again.

"My body is no longer his temple!" She cried, putting all her hatred for the dead man into her voice. And before she could think about it any further, she plunged the knife into her stomach as far as it would go.

It was shocking, she thought, to realize that the new blood now spilling on the floor was hers, her own life force seeping out from around the knife hilt, between her helpless fingers. There was pain, but it was quickly overcome by the numbness and chill spreading from her extremities to seize her vital organs. Her vision blurred, and she slumped to the floor, but she held the image of Imhotep constant in her mind for as long as she could, even as the dark closed in.

I will wait for you, my treasure, she thought, trying to project her last thoughts out to him. I will wait as long as it takes.

**.:The End:.**

_A/N: Hope you liked it ) Please review!_


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